1.“You intimidate me because you’re [insert your ethnicity here].” Hi, try responding to that—when you’re clearly not interested—without sounding like a complete racist. I deserve a drink from the bartender just for being made to feel that uncomfortable, thanks.

2. “You look like you should be on that show So You Think You Can Dance.” Caveat here is, if you are not dancing in any way, shape, or form. I’m wearing shorts and 4-inch heels, these aren’t exactly my dancing shoes, but thanks?

3. “A girl like you should always have a guy next to her. Always.” Yes, I concur. To keep creepers like yourself from getting too close to me.

4. “You’re so [pick your most painfully obvious feature. Even if you're just average, imagine someone is saying that to you in a complimentary fashion.]” There’s a difference between being observant and having tact. I can see which one you picked…

I also enjoy the random men who offer life advice:

“If a man isn’t willing to rub your feet at the end of the day, get rid of him. You can do better than that.” This was legitimately thrown my way one night at a friend’s birthday party. I’m not even creative enough to dream this sh*t up. I mean, does this guy have a total foot fetish? Is he staring at my Gladiator-ed feet and getting a little….turned on?

I’m pretty attached to my pedicure place, actually. I get the sentiment, but I think I’m fine with general emotional attachment, flowers, dinner, etc. Foot massage is not a prerequisite of mine when choosing a boyfriend, or even a one-night stand.

Alright ladies, I know it’s not just me. What are some of the worst lines you’ve gotten lately?

[photo courtesy of cin1977's blog:]

If a guy wearing a big furry hat, black nail polish, and eyeliner thicker than yours walked up to you in a bar and threw insults your way, would you suddenly become weak-kneed and fall into his arms?

Me either.

But apparently, a lot of women do. Which is why there’s a new show on VH1 called The Pick-Up Artist, starring one of the worst dressed men I’ve ever seen in my life, Mystery.

Yes. That’s the name he wants the world to call him.

Evidently, Mystery (God, it’s so hard to type that) is one of the best Pick-Up Artists in the world (How was this decided? Was there a Pick-Up Artist Olympics?), and he wants to share his tips and tricks with a bunch of viginy losers of national television. Mystery guarantees he will change these men’s lives, while making them irresistible to the ladies.

I was only able to catch half an episode (there’s only been one so far), but from what I saw, the 8 contestants were definitely socially defunct, and Mystery and his henchmen are stuck in the 90’s (anyone who thinks a tiny soul patch and hair paint is a good idea deserves to be punched). Some of Mystery’s techniques may help his students in the long run, but I was so deeply disturbed by the man’s fashion sense that I could hardly able to concentrate on what the episode was about.

He wears a hat with fuzz on it. A hat with fuzz. On it. No matter how smooth a guy is, if he comes up to me wearing a fuzzy hat—and taking it seriously—I will not talk to him. Period. I don’t even need to know what he has to say. It’s already obvious we won’t get along.

As much as the idea of this show makes me cringe, I may just have to watch it. Simply because I must know if that hat is worn into bars with success.